


Morse Coding

by janaeandniall



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Tuckington - Freeform, mention of grimmons, season 13 rvb, tucker wash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janaeandniall/pseuds/janaeandniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based around the prompt: "I usually talk to my friends through morse code in class but… apparently you know morse too… and now you know I think your butt is cute."<br/>Tucker and Grif learn Morse code. Wash hears all their conversations and eventually Tucker starts tormenting Wash with it. Wash makes him a deal:<br/>"I’ll teach you how to use Morse code for the battlefield, and if you're good enough, I’ll make out with you and then you have to stop tormenting me."<br/>So Wash gives him some lessons, and eventually, Tucker finds himself in a situation where Morse code saves his life.<br/>Turns out he reached Wash's expectations, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morse Coding

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever!!! So please excuse me if it's terrible and I also did not have time to read over it so sry for spelling errors!!  
> This fic takes place during season 13 of Red vs Blue and plays around Tuckington.  
> There is mention of death (i.g seeing dead bodies, blood, bullet holes, etc. but no major character deaths).  
> Let me know what you think and find me on tumblr at redvsblueporn.tumblr.com/ :)  
> Enjoy!!

Tucker spent a week teaching himself Morse code. It was probably the longest he’d gone trying to _actually_ do something without quitting or giving up.  
Wash’s training: 3 days (in his defense, it felt way longer than 3 days since his calves were now monsters).  
Carolina’s training: 2 hours.  
Trying to convince Caboose that Donut was not a girl: 30 seconds.  
So yeah, he was allowed to feel pretty damn proud about it. He would tap _Simmons is a nerd_ every time Simmons was nearby to get angry since him and Lopez were probably the only others who knew Morse code.  
“Would you stop using that amazing technique created by Samuel F. B. Morse in 1836 for your stupid jokes? It’s not meant for dumb people. You’re ruining it,” Simmons complained, sitting at a table in the cafeteria. Grif was there, along with Tucker and Caboose. The place was buzzing with hungry, young feds and new republics.  
“Where is 1836?” Caboose asked. “I want to be in 1836.”  
“It’s not a place, Caboose, it’s a year,” Simmons stated.  
Tucker tapped on the table. _Simmons is a nerd._  
“Is that the only thing you know how to say?”  
_No._  
Grif spoke up, which he doesn’t usually do at dinner because he’s too busy shovelling food into his mouth. “Think you can teach me that?”  
“Hell yeah!” Tucker exclaimed.  
“What? No!” Simmons screeched, his voice going high like it does. “Why would you want to do that?”  
“It obviously pisses you off, so why wouldn’t I want to learn something that makes you mad just by knowing I know how to do it?”  
“Because you hate learning! You hate even thinking about learning!”  
Tucker could sense a new argument coming so he stood up, grabbing his tray. “I’m leaving so you two can bicker with your child here to watch,” he said, and patted Caboose’s shoulder, which he took as an invitation to hug Tucker for some reason. Tucker pried him off.  
Simmons was ranting while Tucker whispered to Grif, “Come by my room at 8 and we’ll start your lessons. Bow chicka bow wow.”

 

It took Tucker another week to teach Grif, so he’d gotten 2 weeks to learn for himself. He thought he was getting pretty good at it, and Grif too, although that was only judged off the one sentence they were perfect at which was _Simmons is a nerd_. Obviously lunch and dinner in the cafeteria was getting amusing.

 

  
Tucker was busy sitting in class. That’s right, class. He sat amongst the other lieutenants, Caboose, Grif and Simmons. Apparently when the feds and new republics got together, Doyle pitched in the idea that all of the new republics should have to go through the same “training” as the feds did. Kimball thought that was a good idea, and it was probably the one thing they’d ever agreed on, so she organized training classes. Sometimes they were inside, doing ridiculous things you shouldn’t do during a war like school work (it wasn’t really school work since they learned about different weapons, military tactics, and so on but that’s what it felt like). Sometimes they were outside and joined more new republics from other classes to work together to create a fake attack scheme. It all varied on what their teacher wanted.  
Wash was probably a great teacher, as he heard from Palomo, Andersmith, Jensen, Matthews, and Simmons. It was just that he was too serious and boring sometimes. Tucker hated school and he could not listen when Wash droned on and on about safety protocols, but he had to admit he was happy to not be in Carolina’s class.  
So, it was times like these when Morse code really came in handy.  
Tucker looked around the room and everyone seemed to be listening to Wash except for Bitters, who was staring at the clock with his eyes glassed over like he was daydreaming, Grif who was asleep and drooling on the desk, and Tucker himself.  
“Grif,” Tucker whispered, while glancing at Wash to make sure he wasn’t listening or looking. Grif’s desk was right next to his, across the aisle. “Dude, wake the fuck up,” Tucker hissed.  
He still didn’t wake, so Tucker sighed and kicked Grif’s chair. It was a decently hard kick, causing the lieutenants to glance at the noise. Yet what surprised Tucker was how Grif woke up slowly and not in surprise. He must’ve slept through the universe blowing up.  
Tucker looked over and saw Wash eyeing them before turning back to the board and drawing some military strategies.  
“What? I was sleeping,” Grif said flatly.  
“Well wake up, let’s practice.”  
“Practice what?”  
Tucker tapped on his desk. _This_.  
Grif looked confused as well for a split moment and then realized what Tucker was doing. He grinned and tapped back. _Ok_.  
_This can be like our little secret_ Tucker said.  
There was a pause from Grif and then, _what_?  
Tucker sighed. Grif wasn’t as good as him yet. _This. Can. Be. Like. Our. Little. Secret_ he tapped slowly this time. He wanted to add ‘ _bow chicka bow wow_ ’ but didn’t want to confuse Grif further.  
_Yes_ Grif tapped back slowly.  
Tucker groaned a little to himself. Grif was not the best, but neither was he, and they would get there eventually.

 

A few days later, at lunch, Tucker sat down to see Grif tapping on the table like a mad man and Simmons turning red from anger.  
“That isn’t even right! You’re not doing it right, Grif!”  
“What’s going on?” Tucker asked, amused.  
“You taught Grif wrong. You guys messed up some letters. I fucking hear you two during class Morse coding about porn and television and sometimes you mess up a letter and the conversation suddenly gets really confusing,” Simmons crossed his arms.  
“What? No way,” Tucker said.  
“Yes.”  
“Whatever, stop eavesdropping on our conversations.”  
“I can’t help it when you guys are just tapping the whole class about nonsense!” Simmons’ voice cracked.  
_Simmons is a nerd_ Grif tapped, and he and Tucker laughed as Simmons groaned.

 

That day in class, Grif and Tucker were Morse coding to each other as always. They were in the middle of a heavy debate about video games when Wash spoke.  
“Lavernius. Grif,” he said in that stern voice. Tucker looked up to meet Wash’s gaze. Well, Wash’s armor’s visors gaze. He always wore his armor. Not that Tucker hadn’t seen him without it, just more so with than without. “Stop hitting your desks. You’re distracting everyone.”  
“Distracting everyone? No one is even listening to you,” Grif said lazily.  
“I am, Agent Washington!” Palomo yelled.  
“Shut the fuck up, Palomo,” Tucker said across the room.  
“Palomo, don’t call me that. It’s… it’s just Washington.”  
“Sorry, sir…”  
“Way to go, kiss ass,” Bitters mumbled.  
“Everyone be quiet. Class is almost over. Can you just stop tapping for 10 minutes? Then you’re free after,” Wash directed the end part to Tucker and Grif. “Unless you would rather be doing squats and laps.”  
“No,” Grif said.  
“Then stop it.” Wash turned back to the board.

 

Wash didn’t know the exact moment when it started, but as soon as he heard the familiar taps and rhythm, he knew it was Morse code. It was one day while he was teaching that he heard it all of a sudden and his former Freelancer days kicked in. His body froze up and his mouth did as well, midsentence. He listened and picked up _my favoriete video when she was the pizza deliver gurl and he toook the pizza from her and put his_ and dear God, that was the worst Morse code he’d ever heard in his life.  
Wash turned and looked at the class to see who was doing it. He was a little surprised to see Tucker and Grif tapping back and forth. He wasn’t expecting Palomo or Simmons to be talking about that kind of stuff, but still. Tucker knew Morse code?  
“Sir? You were saying?” Jensen called from her seat.  
“Right. Sorry. So you would normally press the pedal second to the right, but in this situation you might want to press the first…”  
He didn’t stop them, not yet. He was a little interested to see what they were talking about.

 

A few days later, Wash and everyone else was fed up and annoyed by their bad Morse code so he gave them a warning.

 

Wash showed up to class late the next day. He just finished his own personal training and had to show up in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. It wasn’t his favorite outfit to wear in front of everyone, presumably because he felt less intimidating, but he also felt a little uncomfortable.  
“Sorry I’m late. I’m going to have you guys do some group work and figure out a list of key things that could happen during these kind of attacks,” he explained and started writing on the board.  
It was quiet as he wrote but he could hear faint tapping of Tucker or Grif trying to be quiet with their Morse code.  
_Wash has nice but._  
What the fuck.  
Wash felt his face going red and part of him really hoped it was Tucker who said that and not Grif. No offense to Grif. Actually, fuck Grif. He was rude, lazy and annoying. Of course he’d want it to have been Tucker.  
He finished writing on the board and sat at his own desk while the class split into groups. The lieutenants went together with Simmons, and Grif, Tucker and Caboose formed a group.  
Wash felt himself trying to listen for tapping but could only hear Tucker arguing with Caboose about something stupid. He sighed, shaking his head, and tried to focus on coming up with new training drills.

 

After class ended, Wash noticed Tucker about to leave. “Tucker, can I talk to you?”  
Tucker stopped and walked over to Wash’s desk. Wash waited for everyone to leave before he started talking. He cleared his throat. “You um, seem to be distracting the class a lot recently.”  
“Fuck,” Tucker sighed. “I’m not getting like 100 squats as punishment or something, am I? Because Grif was interrupting too.”  
“Right. Typical Tucker, you just have to drag your teammates down with you,” Wash said flatly. “What’s with all the tapping between you guys?” Wash decided to play dumb.  
Tucker hesitated. “It’s just like a handshake, I don’t know, it’s our thing.”  
“Can I be in on it? It seems really fun, seeing as you guys do it for the whole class every single day.”  
“Uhhh, nooo… Grif wouldn’t like that,” Tucker said.  
Wash scowled, completely annoyed. “Tucker, you don’t think I know what you’re doing? I know Morse code. I’m _am_ an ex-Freelancer.”  
“What?! You know Morse code?!”  
“Of course I know Morse code. Why wouldn't I know Morse code? That was pretty much our first day of training. And _really_? Wash has nice but? You didn’t even spell butt right when you did it,” Wash said.  
“You heard that?” Tucker seemed surprised and a little embarrassed.  
“Of course I heard that. I hear everything you guys say," he paused. "Both of your Morse code is awful, who taught you?”  
“The Internet!” Tucker sighed. “God damn it.”  
Wash looked thoughtfully at Tucker. "I think I should switch Grif to Carolina’s class,” Wash informed him.  
Tucker frowned. “What? No!”  
“Would you rather it be you?” Wash raised an eyebrow.  
Tucker hesitated. “No. Fuck Grif. I’m going to have to throw him under the bus here.”  
“Nice, Tucker,” Wash started collecting his things to leave.  
Tucker sighed, holding his notebook that he’d probably never written in. “This isn’t fair, Wash. These classes are just _so_ boring.”  
“I know that they’re boring to you, but they are important out there on the battlefield. It’s always good to have knowledge and the advantage in a war.”  
“Wash, you’re losing me here.”  
“Right. My point is, you’re just distracting yourself and everyone else,” Wash said. He really did just want to help Tucker succeed in becoming a better soldier.  
“Whatever. Fuck this. Grif was the only fun I had in this class,” Tucker said with some attitude and left the room.  
Wash felt a little bad but shook his head, grabbing his coffee mug. Tucker just had to smarten up and start taking everything a little more seriously.

 

He was late again a few days later, Tucker noticed. This time Wash was wearing athletic shorts, running shoes and a sweatshirt. He quickly dumped his stuff onto his desk and started writing gibberish on the board.  
Tucker looked over at Grif’s empty spot and groaned to himself. Classes became 100 times worse ever since Grif was switched to Carolina’s class. Now, all he did at lunch was complain about Carolina and bitch at Tucker about how it was his fault.  
Sitting at his desk with no one near him, Tucker silently cursed Wash for ruining his life. Well that was a little dramatic, but he felt resentful towards Wash at the moment.  
He sat quietly and stared off into space when he finally got an idea. If he couldn’t Morse code with Grif, then he would just have to Morse code with Wash. Tucker smirked to himself, ready to give payback.  
Tucker started tapping while Wash was talking.  
_Wash_  
Wash hesitated a little but kept teaching.  
_Wash listen 2 me_  
_I no ur listening_  
_Nice legs wash, really, how much do u work ut_  
Wash started blushing while teaching and Tucker snickered to himself. This was going to be a blast.

 

Every time Wash showed up late and not in his armor, Tucker would torment him with compliments. That sounded weird, but whatever, it was true and too much fun.  
He’d said everything from _nice legs, nice thighs, nice hands, did u no ur freckles stood out when u blushed?, I like ur stern voice when u tell bitters to do his work, blue really suits u, nice arms wash WOW, cutest blonde ive ever seen_. And more, probably.  
Wash hadn’t talked to him at all or told him to stop. Tucker thought he was embarrassed which was a satisfying reaction.  
After class one day, Wash called his name and sounded a little hostile. Tucker was slightly surprised but stayed, curious to see what Wash finally had to say. He sat on his desk and they both waited for the room to clear out. Simmons eyed them both before leaving. Tucker sometimes forgot that he knew Morse code as well.  
“What’s up?” Tucker asked casually.  
“ _What’s up?_ ” Wash questioned. “You’re being more destructive than ever. You’re distracting me and ruining my lessons, therefore directly influencing how the rest are learning! And you,” he threw his arms in the air, “you’re not even _listening_. This stuff is important, Lavernius.”  
“Can you stop using my name like that?” Tucker asked, annoyed.  
“Like what?”  
“Like you’re mad at me.”  
“I am mad at you!” Wash sat down in his chair and ran a hand over his face. He looked exhausted and Tucker started to feel guilty. “How about we make a deal.”  
“We make out and solve our differences?” Tucker suggested lightheartedly.  
Wash didn’t look up since he was probably blushing again. “That doesn’t sound very fair to me,” he said, and Tucker could see him grin a little.  
“What the fuck, Wash? _You_ don’t want to make out with _me_?” Tucker joked and he heard Wash chuckle a bit. “What’s your proposal then?” Tucker asked.  
Wash looked up again. “If I teach you how to properly do Morse code,” Wash paused, “will you stop using it in my class?”  
Tucker frowned. “That’s not really a win situation for me now.”  
“Come on, Tucker. It’s a cool thing to know. You can use it on the battlefield and you never know when it can be useful,” Wash explained, seeming desperate.  
“Wash, have you ever used it for anything besides training?”  
“…No.”  
“Then sorry, but no deal.”  
“Tucker, please.”  
“No!”  
“Fuck,” Wash sighed. “Why are you so stubborn?”  
“Why am _I_ so stubborn?! Why are _you_ so stubborn! Not to mention you’re way too serious all the time. Lighten up! We’re barely at war right now and you’re freaking out at me over these stupid classes!” Tucker complained. “I’m just trying to have fun," he added.  
“Fine!” Wash exclaimed. “You want fun? Here’s your deal. I’ll teach you how to use Morse code for on the field, and if you reach my expectations, I’ll make out with you.”  
Tucker was pleased at Wash’s bargain but a little shocked. “Seriously?" Tucker asked and Wash blushed, while nodding, looking a little regretful. "And if I don’t reach your expectations?”  
Wash sighed and paused for a long time. “Then you can keep tormenting me in class until they finish.”  
“Fuck yeah, deal then! That’s a win-win situation for me,” Tucker stuck his hand out for a handshake.  
Wash took it and smirked. “Just wait, Captain Tucker. It won’t be that easy.”

 

Wash was right. His lessons for Morse code were even _worse_ than the ones he taught everyone in class. He was a hard ass and didn’t let Tucker have any fun while they worked together in private. By “fun” he meant messing around with the Morse code, nothing else. He made Tucker practice decoding letters and then he made him decode patterns from Morse code and numbers in Morse to words somehow. Tucker felt like he learned years’ worth of Morse training when it’d only been 2 weeks so far.  
Wash was sitting on his bed, looking on the Internet for more things to decode for practice. “I remember this one. I couldn’t get it. I remember only Tex could do it,” Wash said out loud.  
Tucker lay on the ground. “Of course Tex could do it. She was a robot.”  
“She was more than that, Tucker.”  
“You stabbed her in the face one time.”  
Wash scowled. “Here, try to decode it.”  
“If Tex, a literal artificial intelligence computer in a robot, could do it, what makes you think _I_ can?” Tucker questioned and sat up, annoyed.  
Wash shrugged. “You can just do it for fun.”  
“For fun?! Wash, this is not fun! We said making out was fun!”  
“I said that was if you reached my expectation,” Wash said and blushed, like usual.  
“I’m starting to think I’m never going to reach your expectation,” Tucker looked over at him.  
“You will. I know you will. You always do.”  
Tucker stared over at him and then looked away. “Apparently not in your class.”  
“Because you were Morse coding inappropriate things to me while I was teaching!” Wash put his hands over his face and groaned. “Tucker, you don’t know how capable you are. You’re smart, you’re a good soldier, you’re good looking, people like you, you’re popular among everyone…”  
“Is this leading up to a marriage proposal?” Tucker joked, smiling from the floor. He enjoyed the compliments from Wash since they only happened every once in awhile.  
Wash looked over at him as though he wanted to say something. He cleared his throat and daringly said, “My point is, you can do anything. You know why?”  
Tucker snorted. “Why?”  
“Because I’ll always believe you can,” Wash admitted. Tucker looked over at him to meet his gaze and they held it for a few seconds before Wash looked down. “You need to keep practicing.”  
Tucker sighed loudly and Wash grinned a bit.

 

The Reds and Blues got sent out one morning to answer a distress call. It came from some feds and new republics that were out on a recon mission to spy on Felix and Locus but were spotted and forced to fire. They were then beaten and captured, whatever was left of them, as hostages. Tucker wished he knew why Kimball didn’t just send Carolina and Wash; she definitely put too much trust into them. They couldn’t really do jack shit without at least messing one thing up.  
Tucker was on his own, sneaking around the base with his sword out, searching for where the hostage soldiers were. The Reds ft. Caboose were also looking around, but mostly being look out and staying near the warthog to get the hostages out once they were found. Guess it was just down to Tucker.  
He sighed to himself and mumbled something about how he’d curse Kimball later for making him do this as he crouched around a corner. As soon as he turned the corner he was met with bodies of fellow feds and new republics on the ground. He cursed to himself and made a promise that he would fucking kill that bastard Felix.  
He kept walking and it was eerily quiet. He shivered a bit and his body was covered in goosebumps. He suddenly had the feeling he was in a horror movie. Or maybe he felt like he was being watched?  
Turning, Tucker looked over his shoulder and saw a shimmer in the air. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered, and moved quicker to try and get cover.  
“What is it?” Simmons asked over their radio.  
“Locus. He’s here,” Tucker whispered, and started running towards the base. He just needed to press his back against the wall and he’d be okay, he wouldn’t get stabbed in the back or the legs or anything and could just look in front of him for Locus.  
“Yeah, we kinda figured he was here. This is his base,” Grif said over the intercom.  
“Shut the fuck up, Grif, I’m about to die—” The air shimmered again right in front of Tucker and suddenly Locus was there, throwing the butt of his gun into Tucker’s forehead and then the world went black.

 

When Tucker woke up, he immediately tried to move. His feet were tied together along with his hands and he felt panic bubble in him for a moment. His helmet was gone and he swore out loud. He was in a dark room, his eyes still adjusting to the dark. He tried to stand up when a door opened.  
He grimaced from the light and couldn’t see for a second but still recognized the voice from anywhere.  
“Hello, Tucker,” Felix said.  
“You fucking tool,” Tucker grunted out. His head wasn’t hurting too bad, since his helmet took most of the impact, but it still hurt.  
“Nice to see you too.” Felix looked around the room. “Hope you enjoy your stay. It will be brief, probably. We’re executing all your men, by the way, so that Kimball knows this isn’t a joke. We also just like to kill people. You’ll be up in a bit. See you then.” As he was leaving the room, Tucker looked around and noticed a ton of feds and new republics’ bodies on the ground. Still in their armor, but missing their helmets. He wanted to throw up at how young some of them looked. “Oh, also,” Felix said, “if we hear you screaming in here for help, I will just come in and shoot you.” Tucker quickly noticed his helmet in the corner before the door shut and it was dark again.  
Tucker waited a few moments to make sure Felix wouldn’t come back before he started wiggling his way over to his helmet. He crawled over dead bodies and tried not to think about it, to just think about his helmet and radio for help. He reached it after struggling a bit and grabbed it with one hand. He felt around the outside of the helmet in the dark, trying to find the button to turn on the radio. He finally found it and pushed it in, but didn’t hear the familiar noise of it clicking on.  
“No, no,” he whispered. “Hello? Sarge? Caboose?” He tried to stay as quiet as he could, but he knew if he spoke up, he still wouldn’t get an answer. The radio in his helmet was fried. In anger, he threw it back into the corner.  
He was going to die in their stupid base, killed by stupid Felix.  
Wash was wrong. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even get one stab in when Locus knocked him out. How pathetic.  
Tucker slid down until he lay on his side on the ground. He was about to put his head down as well, when it hit something hard. He looked up and saw a feds helmet. He sat up and grabbed it, pushing the radio button on. Nothing. He slouched over in disappointment, before looking around. He noticed there were a few other helmets and crawled over to them to see if they worked.  
He tried four other helmets but none worked. He was ready to throw the last one angrily at the wall, but knew that would just end with Felix putting a bullet or a knife in his head.  
Maybe he should just do it and get his death over with. There was no point in delaying it if it was inevitable.  
Tucker looked around at all the bodies. He gently patted one on the chest. “I’m sorry, guys,” he whispered. He then paused, noticing something. One last helmet, still on a new republics body. Tucker started quietly making his way over, trying to prepare himself for what he was going to have to do.  
When he reached the body, he hesitated, before unclasping the helmet and pulling it off slowly. There was a bullet hole through the helmet, but it went through the face part of the helmet that didn’t interact with the radio, so Tucker prayed that it would be okay somehow.  
His hands shook as he turned on the radio. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. And then click. That familiar noise.  
Tucker wanted to yell and celebrate but had to focus. He put the helmet in his lap and started fumbling with a small dial to change the channel. He finally got it on the right one and was about to say Grif, Simmons, Sarge, Caboose, _anyone_ , when he heard footsteps outside the door. Tucker quickly put the helmet back on the body and froze, waiting for the door to open, but it didn’t. He grabbed the helmet again and stared at it, thinking _what now? What am I supposed to do with this now?_  
His hands seemed to freeze and not move quick enough when he thought _Morse code_. He put his fists into the head hole of the helmet and found the microphone. He started tapping it, a faint thud every time.  
_Help_  
_Help_  
_Help_  
_Help_  
He kept tapping and felt himself doing it louder. He didn’t want to and knew he shouldn’t, but they weren’t answering.  
_Help_  
_Help_  
_Help_  
_I’m alive_  
He did it for another minute and stopped, throwing his head back against the wall. They probably left. It had to have been an hour or two since Tucker was knocked out. They were probably back home and declared him dead.  
There was some static and then, “Hello?”  
It was Caboose’s voice. Tucker had never been so happy to hear Caboose.  
_Caboose, it’s me, it’s Tucker!_  
“Hello? I hear you!”  
_Yes, Caboose, get help!_  
“Caboose, who are you talking to?” Sarge’s voice in the background.  
“The rats in my helmet. They keep tapping in here. I should get them out.”  
“What the hell is he talking about?” Sarge again.  
“I don’t know.” Simmons.  
_TURN YOUR RADIOS ON!!! IT’S ME!!!_  
“I still hear them. It’s getting louder! They’re going to get into my head!”  
There was a pause and then more static. “Hello…?” Grif’s voice came over the radio.  
_GRIF_  
Pause. “Holy shit, Tucker? This is a joke.”  
_I’M ALIVE_  
_HELP_  
“Simmons, turn on your radio! I think it’s code!” Grif shouted way too loudly. Tucker covered the helmet with his body, trying to quiet them.  
Simmons came onto the radio. “Tucker, if that’s you, we’re here. We’re listening.”  
_I’m alive_  
_Felix and Locus killed them all_  
“Why aren’t you talking, Blue? What is this tap-tap-tap-tap? Oh, this reminds me of when that ship landed on poor Donut…”  
“You do realize that wasn’t even Donut tapping. That was my sister.”  
“Shut up!” Simmons sighed. “Tucker, where are you?”  
_Don’t know, it’s dark_  
_Their base for sure_  
_In a room_  
“Do you think I have enough time to coordinate your whereabouts? It’ll take about 3 minutes.” Tucker heard a gunshot from outside.  
_Yes, do it quick_  
“Ok, coordinating now. Just hang in th—”  
The door opened and Locus walked in. Tucker threw the helmet away and Locus didn’t seem to notice as he just grabbed Tucker and hauled him up to his feet. He dragged him out of the room and Tucker found he was in a grey room. There were lights, a screen, and one single chair. Felix was busy trying to pick up a newly dead body.  
“Locus, you mind?” Felix asked. Locus grunted and walked over, picking up the body with ease and throwing it into the room where Tucker just came from. Felix forcefully pushed Tucker down onto the chair. He found himself sitting right in front of the screen and realized they were streaming the killings, most likely to everyone back at home base.  
“Tucker, Tucker, Tucker…” Felix started.  
“You're not going to monologue me to death, are you?” Tucker asked flatly even though his heart beat a little faster in his chest.  
Felix scowled but then laughed it off. “Insult me all you want. I’m about to kill you in front of all your friends back home. Say hi to the camera, Tucker.”  
Tucker didn’t answer and just hoped the Reds and Caboose were on their way.  
“Say hi to Carolina, Church, Palomo, Bitters, Matthews, Jensen, Andersmith, Kimball, Doyle, Donut… Wash…”  
Tucker still didn’t answer but clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.  
Felix chuckled. “I remember when he sacrificed himself for you.”  
“It wasn’t for me,” Tucker snapped. “It was for all of them.”  
“Maybe… but he looked right at you when he said it. _Freckles, shake_.” Tucker could see Wash all over again, saying those words, and how Tucker had felt so scared and betrayed. He was mad for awhile, thinking _how could Wash do this to me? To us? Leave us here?_ He could only imagine how Wash felt at that moment, watching Tucker maybe about to be killed on live TV. Felix stood to Tucker’s side and placed a finger under his chin, making Tucker look up at Felix’s visor. “Isn’t that romantic? So, have you guys confessed your love yet?”  
Tucker ripped his head away from Felix’s grasped and breathed heavily through his nose. He just needed to stall Felix, right? Wait long enough for the guys to show up?  
“…No. I haven’t.” Tucker played him.  
“Holy shit, Locus! You hear that? A love blossoming between two handsome, manly soldiers. An ex-freelancer and then a blue. That’s cute. Hey, Wash, if you’re listening, you hear that?” Felix stood behind Tucker and suddenly violently grabbed his hair and yanked it back. Felix placed his gun to the side of Tucker’s head. “This is such a tragedy. I feel almost bad.”  
Tucker suddenly heard something. Was that…? No. It was. Music. Wheels. The hum of a vehicle.  
Tucker couldn't help but grin. “Don’t, Felix. You’ve got way more coming your way than I do.”  
Suddenly, the music was way louder and the wall was breaking and the warthog drove right through the wall. There was no sound but the music blaring loudly in Tucker’s ears. Smoke and debris fell around him and all over the floor. After a few seconds, the smoke disappeared and Caboose was walking over to Tucker.  
“You guys almost killed me!” Tucker shouted and coughed from some of the smoke. Caboose literally picked him up, still tied and everything, and walked back to the warthog. They got in together and Grif backed out of the building, running over debris.  
Tucker stared into the building where the hole was. Locus and Felix were gone.  
And then Grif took off as bullets fired after them.

 

Caboose untied Tucker on the way back. He told them the story of what happened and they all cussed out Felix together. Tucker specifically said thanks to Grif and Simmons, and Simmons joked about how it was a good idea they learned Morse code.  
When they arrived back, the warthog stopped rolling right on time from shrapnel piercing into the tires. It was a miracle they even made it back with how the thing looked after crashing through a wall.  
They walked into their base together and were greeted by, well, everyone. They were concerned, happy, amazed at how Tucker escaped.  
Tucker scanned the crowd for Wash but didn’t have enough time to keep looking before Kimball and Carolina took him away to ask him about what happened and any information on Felix and Locus. He told them he didn’t know anything. They were evil, killed all their men, were going to kill him next, and they got away. The two of them still interrogated him for two hours.  
Afterwards, he had to see Dr. Grey to make sure everything was fine. She asked how he was and he said he just felt really tired.

 

Tucker was finally making his way back to his room. He shed and left his armor in Dr. Grey’s room since he really didn’t want to walk with everything on. Apparently he was going to have some therapy sessions or something the next few days to help him recover after seeing the bodies. He didn’t even really care at the moment. He was just _so_ tired and felt a little drained from seeing his dead friends.  
When he got back to his room, he closed the door behind him and turned on the light. Wash was standing there and looked just as exhausted as Tucker felt.  
“Wash—” Tucker started to say but he was cut off when Wash kissed him. His hands were on either side of Tucker’s face, holding him still so he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.  
Tucker was about to kiss him back but it was over before it even started. Wash pulled Tucker in and hugged him instead. A really tight hug. Wash was taller than Tucker and had his arms around his neck and shoulders, so Tucker hugged Wash around his waist and squeezed him back to let him know he was okay.  
“Grif radioed in that they took you. I knew you were okay. I knew you would’ve been fine. And then I saw you on that stupid fucking broadcast Felix did and I wanted to rip his throat open. I didn’t know if you were going to make it,” Wash was talking fast and his face was red from the kiss or maybe because his eyes were watering and he was about to cry.  
“I did it, Wash,” Tucker said and just wanted to make him stop crying. “The Morse code that you taught me. I got out because of you. You saved me.”  
“No, no I didn’t. I told you you could do anything,” Wash said quietly and wiped his eyes.  
Tucker grinned a little. “Well I’m happy to see you care so much…”  
“Of course I do, Tucker,” Wash seemed offended. “I… I… you know,” he stammered and turned even redder.  
“I know. Me too,” Tucker admitted slowly.  
“So the broadcast… what you said was true?” Wash asked carefully.  
Tucker just nodded slowly. "I didn't really think about it before. I mean, I did, all that time we were separated when you went to the Feds base and I went to the New republics. I thought you were dead and I felt like I regretted and missed something my whole life. I thought I would never see you again. Part of me thought that I was just grieving and missed you like the rest did. But I missed you differently... I loved you," Tucker admitted shyly, for the first time in his life. "I do love you and I can't afford to lose what we have, or even without telling you and messing up one day and one of us is dead without knowing. So yeah. It was true. I love you, Wash," Tucker finally got out.  
Wash smiled, a little broken while still looking terrified, but he smiled. "I always thought you were so annoying and loud but today and even back then when we were separated, I knew that I loved you. I always knew that." Tucker smiled back at that and turned off the light, guiding them both to Tucker’s bed. They held each other close and stayed quiet for a while, but something was on Tucker’s mind…  
“So uh, Wash... since we love each other and all... you think I can get that make out sesh now? I thought for sure that mission would have reached your expectation."  
Wash laughed and turned his head to kiss Tucker and they both smiled into it.


End file.
